


A Purpose

by Monalisasandmadhatters20



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Depression, Domestic Violence, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisasandmadhatters20/pseuds/Monalisasandmadhatters20
Summary: Bernie left to sort himself out, realizing after an embarrassingly long time it was the wrong decision...  Can he fix it?PS: Same story, some editing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When Bernie said he needed a break from the tour to sort himself out, he didn't realize how poorly it would be taken...

_ It’s going to be one of those nights, _ Bernie Taupin thought, staring at the digital clock. It was half past one in the morning, and he was no closer to sleep than he had been four hours ago. He turned onto his back, looking over at his ex-wife. She was in a deep sleep.  _ She always snored horribly at the worst of times _ , he sighed, slowly getting out of the warm bed. If he laid much longer in the darkness he felt he may lose his mind.

He put on his bathrobe, wincing at the pain each movement caused. He needed a beer and a valium, and he needed them now. 

_ This ‘break’ has been absolute shit _ , he thought, padding barefoot to his kitchen. 

He worked too hard in his fields after not doing physical labor in years. He had strained almost every muscle in his body before Alexandra convinced him to go to the doctor.  _ The sciatic nerve is nothing to play about with, Bernie! _ Her screeching had always made him give in to one thing or another.

He had invited her to dinner one night when he was feeling especially isolated. He did not think of the loneliness before breaking from the tour. Sadly, Alexandra just never left. Even 8 months after the confrontation that caused the giant rift between him and Reg, he was still not quite feeling like a repeat performance. 

She annoyed the shit out of him, though. It was why he had divorced her in the bleeding first place. He sat at newly constructed kitchen island, rubbing his face with his hand. He swallowed his pills with his beer.  _ Goodbye yellow brick road, indeed _ , he thought cynically, staring out the back door at his plough.

He picked up the newspaper, skimming through until he found the entertainment section. He frowned. Elton was featured, of course. It should not be a shock to his system. He seemed to be everywhere and anywhere these days.

He fingered the picture, seeing the things no one else did. The prominent dark circles that surrounded his almost lifeless eyes. The yellowing skin from too much alcohol. The sagging skin from losing too much weight much too fast. The dark nostrils that showed recent drug snorting. He stared at Elton’s bare arms, taking in the cuts and what looked like track marks.  _ When did he start injected? _ _ How is none of this commented on? _ , Bernie wondered, reading the article.  _ Number one artist, certified gold, responsible for 4 percent of all record sales, worldwide tour in full swing… Nothing about his bloody health… _

But then, why would there be? As long as he was still performing their hits and selling out arenas, why would anyone care about his physical and mental well-being? It was the money that mattered.

It was then Bernie realized that his friend was worse. He was worse than Bernie had ever imagined. And he was to blame.

This break was supposed to be for Elton, not really for him. He knew his friend was running himself to the ground. What would happen next? Cocaine seizure? Heart attack? Aids? Death?

Bernie pondered hopping on the next plane and finding him. He then had to wonder if whether Elton would even want to see him. Bernie opened another beer, the scene on the plane replaying in his mind’s eye. Bernie had left Elton, he would not delude himself into thinking differently. He itched to ring him, speak to him, see him face to face. To explain what he really wanted when he had suggested this break. This time with less substances running through his bloody stream. It would be easy enough to catch a plane to London. It would be easy enough to stay with his mum or Ray while he looked for Elton. He knew once he found him, the conversation would not be so easy, but one can't have everything.

Bernie finished his beer quickly. He had packing to do, a plane to find, and a sleeping ex-wife to NOT to wake…

**************************************

Bernie limped out of the gate, dragging his carry-on behind him. He forgot just how LONG the flight from California to London truly was, nevermind the fucking layover... The altitude was hell on his body. He had been crushed in the middle seat, between two obese women who seemed to be friendly with each other, listening to their mundane chatter throughout. He was bloody done in. 

Seeing his best friend Ray Williams standing with a dimwitted sign in hand was like seeing God himself at that point.

“Congrats on completing rehab... Truly original, old friend,” Bernie said, giving him a one-armed hug. “It’s great to see you. It’s been too long.”

“I concur, mate! Phone calls are wonderful and all, but it is nice to actually  _ see _ you. Well, it would, if you didn’t look like shite, Bernie.”

Bernie nodded. “I feel like shite, mate. Mind if we sit for a few minutes? I need to take a pill or you’ll be carrying me out of here on stretcher.”

“The coffee shop is right through there. I’m sure the prices are ghastly, but you look like you could use a bitter.”

They walked slowly, Bernie using his luggage to keep himself upright. Ray had offered an arm, but Bernie quietly refused it. He did not want to draw attention to himself. He may not be THE Elton John, but he had been photographed numerous times over the years alongside. Being back in his home county brought anxiety he had not expected.

He fell into the booth, letting Ray order at the counter for him. He pulled out his bottle with a shaky hand. He was glad the bottle was nearly full. Not that he always took as prescribed, but they should last for the duration of his stay. He had not thought that part through before hopping on the early morning flight.

Accepting both the black coffee and a bottle of water with a grateful smile, he swallowed two of his pills. “Thanks, mate. I appreciate it.”

Ray nodded, stirring his milk and sugar into his tea. “How long you staying?”

“I dunno. I haven’t a return flight yet.”

“You can do work anywhere, aye? So no need to rush back. Nothing waiting for you?”

“Just my harpy ex-wife who moved back in for some reason.” Bernie chuckled and nodded at Ray’s dumbfounded expression. “I know, it’s bonkers… I invited Alexandra over for dinner and a shag one evening, and she just... never left. It’s been eight months, give or take.”

Ray shook his head. “Oh Bernie! We  _ always _ so no when it comes to the bloody ex’s! You know that! Why did you invite her over in the first place? Then why didn’t you just throw her out? She cheated on you mate. Reason she’s the ex and all...”

“I got lonely and needed to clear my head. It was nice at first, having her there. Warm body and all. But then she became quite vexing again... Don’t feel like the confrontation, so I just drink to tune her out. I left her sleeping in my bed with a note on my pillow. Couldn’t bear to wake her and deal with the arguments... When I go back, hopefully she’s gone.”

“At least it wasn’t Maxine…”

Bernie shuddered. “Mate, I’d never be lonely enough to invite her back in the picture…”

Ray laughed. 

“What about you? What’re you up to these days?”

“A bit of this, a bit of that. I took a very early retirement after Elton signed on with Reid officially. I couldn’t hack Dick being… well, a dick about it. He said since I was such good friends with you both I must have helped orchestrate it to make him look the fool. Like I would willinging help that wanker…”

“I remember long conversations doing the opposite in fact, not too long after he came into Elton’s life,” Bernie said, tapping the table. He never liked Dick, but thought he had better sense than that.

“I do some lyric and sound work now. It pays the bills well enough I have barely tapped into my retirement. Which is good, because I would rather spend it all before I reach 40.”

Bernie nodded. He understood completely. He got quite a bit from the album sales, so he had a nice nest-egg for now, but he knew that could end at the drop of a hat, especially if Reid was in control for much longer. 

“You sure you don’t mind me staying for a bit? Especially since I don’t know when I’ll be leaving? I can ring my mum now if you’d rather.”

“Nonsense. I have a three bedroom flat right now. As long as a room stays open if the kiddos need somewhere to rest, we’re golden. Plenty of room for you. You’re my best mate, Bernie. It’s no issue.”

They finished their drinks in silence. Bernie watched the crowd bustle to and fro. He always wondered why people never seemed to give themselves enough time at the airport to get to where they needed to go. Had he ever looked so flustered before Elton finally bought the private jet?

He ignored Ray’s look of concern as he took another pill. Thinking of Elton made the pain return.

“Right. Well, I’m ready when you are,” Bernie said, shoving the pills in his pocket.

He got unsteadily to his feet. The pain was still there, a distant throb in his psyche, but he felt better than when he had landed. Now all he needed was a bed to rest. It had been a bloody long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elton's addictions grow more prevalent and his relationship is even more toxic

Elton woke with a start. He did not even remember falling asleep in the first place. He found himself facing the window. He banged his fist to his head, realizing only then he fell asleep in the fucking chair. He twisted his neck trying to relieve the tension left from the uncomfortable position. 

He looked around his immediate area with a frown on his face. The floor was littered with empty liquor bottles. Cut up and unknown drugs were sitting innocently on the side table Used needles lay next to the bottles and on his fucking lap. He ran his hand down face, wondering how long he had been in this suite to cause such chaos, and where exactly this room actually was.

He got to his feet slowly, his legs barely supporting his weight. He stumbled to the ensuite loo just in time to empty his stomach in the toilet. He groaned, laying his throbbing head on the seat. He ignored the voice in his head telling him just unhygienic this whole situation was. He would have to care a different day.

He tied the belt to his silken bathrobe taut, his teeth chattering. He was freezing, sweat droplets finding their way into his eyes. He walked back towards his chair. He saw a map of Belfast sitting on the edge of the table in passing. He quickly snorted the unknown substances upon the table, hoping he would steady some if he ended the withdrawal. He hated being all limbs at his age. He closed his eyes as he waited for the drugs came into effect. 

He should probably care that he was alone upon waking. John had promised he would be staying with him after their last brawl, but he would not allow himself to. If he continued to tell himself he enjoyed being alone, that he didn’t need John at all, maybe one day he might believe it.

John would come and get him for whatever show was scheduled. He might leave him alone to go after whatever (or whoever) might catch his fancy for hours/days, but when it came to business, he was all in. It all came down to money of course, and Elton was John’s money-maker.

_His_ _sugar daddy,_ Elton could not help thinking with a snort. 

He closed his eyes, giving into sleep once again. His dreams this time were haunted by false promises, broken friendships, broken bones and hearts.

It was time for his next bender, he knew the moment he gasped awake again. When his dreams become synonymous with what his life had become, it was always time... He ignored the tears of regret falling down his cheeks he injected the heroine into his blood-stream. Sleep never did anything good for him, anyway. 

_ John will be happy not to have to wake me _ , he thought, leaning back in the chair.  _ I’ll be up and ready to go… It’s always nice when John is happy. _

It was either that, or absurd pain. There was no middle ground with his lover. 

Most who knew him called their relationship toxic. They did not stay in his circle very long after. No one had the right to judge him, them, John always said. Not even himself.

Elton banged his fist on his temple, trying to jump out of that train before he got too far. It never ended well. He got to his feet quickly, and began to clean the mess. It would be better if John did NOT see how Elton spent his time apart. 

_ Oh, how I miss Bernie.. _ . 

Bernie always made the hurt go away. He would have stopped Elton before it had gotten this bad. He was always good for a laugh, and made the voices quiet in his head. He was such a lovely guy. 

He had made him want to continue living, to enjoy the life they were given. He was a bit happy that Bernie got out when he could, though. That he left Elton’s madness. No deserved to be a part of this madness, ( _ except maybe John… _ ), but especially Bernie... 

He got in the shower, washing away the days of grime, knowing John would be quite surprised, and maybe he would make it to the show without any added pains... 

When did his life begin to revolve around making John happy so he might not beat him without a moment's notice? That seemed fucked up even in his drug addled mind.

_ Stupid, stupid, _ he thought, punching his temple again. He needed to end that line of thought quickly. Nothing good ever came of it. Nothing at all.

*********************************

The show was a hit, of course. Elton felt like he was on the top of the world as he sat in his dressing room washing off his makeup. The grin had been plastered on his face for what felt like hours. He hadn’t even dipped yet after the show, the high of the performance being enough for now. 

As the makeup slowly came off, the bruises began to show. The grin faltered, the scene in the hotel room coming back to him in its full technicolor glory.

He groaned. He had nearly forgotten about it, and he sure wished John had hit him hard enough to do so now. 

He had gathered all the trash but left the bag by the door. He had thought housekeeping would have been by to get it before John came back. He had passed out after another line, and missed housekeeping’s knock. John had shouted at him for being so dense as to put so much in his system in so little time. Elton snarked back, and got two black eyes and a broken rib for it.

John had ‘promised’ to keep a better eye on Elton from that point forward. Laying on the floor whimpering in pain, Elton thought it sounded more like a threat. John had wrapped his chest with a tight bandage, given him the thick makeup they had in storage for this purpose, and told him to put on a great fucking show or he would add to the pain.

He had gone on, strung out on prescription drugs, to be able to deal with the pain, and had just plain forgotten. He put his forehead on the table and groaned. He was such a wretched man.

The door opened loudly and Elton cursed, jumping to his feet. He looked to the floor when he saw it was John entering. He  _ really _ did not want to deal with this madness in that moment. 

John raked his knuckles gently over his bruises, his cheeks, his chin, and sighed. He sounded rather sad, which threw Elton. John never felt regret for his actions.

“Good show tonight, love. Let’s get back to the hotel. We fly to Pinner on the morrow to visit your parents and you deserve some rest before we leave.”

Elton nodded, not quite paying attention to the words, just soaking in the gentle tone he had missed for so long. He allowed John to wrap his arm around his body. They left together, John holding Elton. Elton spent the entire night wondering if the day had actually happened, or if he was in the middle of some mind fuck dream.

_ Either way _ , he thought, as he snuggled into John’s chest in bed that night.  _ It is enjoyable. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elton realizes many things: John is certifiable, his mum likes to embellish his life to the point people ask stupid questions, and his Nan is still the best...

“Wait, we’re actually going to my mum’s,” Elton asked. The horrified expression on his face made John roll his eyes. He was getting quite tired of the histrionics.

“I said that last night, yes.”

“Are you… Are you mental?”

John shook his head, folding the newspaper with a sneer on his face. “Not last I checked, no. I believe you are certifiable, though, it that matters.”

“But… Why are you doing this to me? You keep saying you love me...”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “We are nearby, love. It would be heartbreaking for her if she didn’t see you, Elton.”

Elton huffed. “It’s heartbreaking for me to see her, if that matters at all...”

“Stop with the dramatics. You’re a fucking embarrassment, Elton. Grow the fuck up.”

Elton crossed his arms, slumping in the seat of his private jet. He did not care just how childish he might have seemed at the moment. John never understood the turbulent relationship he shared with parents, his mother. He, for some strange reason, adored the bitch, and would not hear any crass talk about her.

He hailed the stewardess. “I’m too sober for this shit.” 

John sighed and opened his newspaper again. He would keep an eye on Elton and ensure he was not properly sloshed by the time they arrived, but he did not feel like having the same argument over his using again. He really wondered why he bothered keeping the twat alive when all he did was backtalk and humiliate himself, and therefore them.

He would make just as much with him dead as he did alive at this point, really. 

The part of him that loved Elton had died long ago. Elton was a means to an end right now for him. 

John pushed Elton’s small box of coke he had confiscated after the show towards him with a nod. “Go ahead, love. You probably want this as well.” The cheer instantly returned to Elton’s face as he took out his pocketknife.  _ If I’m lucky, you’ll have a seizure and maybe even die before we land, _ he thought, turning the page, almost returning the dumb smile.

************************

“Will you stop sulking? We are almost there,” John said, staring out the window. 

Elton took a long pull from the bottle of gin in hand. “I am NOT sulking. I’ve said that plenty of times, John. I am just trying to figure out why you thought this was a jolly good idea, John, and I really can’t,” Elton said, twisting the cap back on. “You know how well my mother and I get on.”

“She really is a lovely woman. You need to let go of whatever issues you have with her. It’s beginning to rub people” ( _ Me) _ “The wrong way... You are not the only closeted queer with a mummy complex, yeh know.”

Elton snorted.  _ Lovely Woman _ and  _ Sheila Dwight _ were not synonymous, no matter John’s opinion. He slumped further in the seat. He kept his gaze firmly directed outside, ignoring John and his redundancy, and tried to soothe the growing panic as they passed landmarks he recognized from his childhood.

They arrived much too soon in Elton’s humble opinion. He took a last pull of his liquor, annoyed to find that it was already empty. He threw the bottle on the floor of the car, nodding at the satisfying shatter. He heard John’s groan as he stumbled out of the car, only staying upright thanks to the driver who opened the door. He was chuffed to have vexed John over something so silly. 

He fixed his glasses and cowboy hat, wiping his sweaty palms on the blue suit jacket, and hoped that he at least looked somewhat presentable, as he tried to quiet his quickening heart.

“You’re sweating off the makeup again, Elton. You need to bloody calm down,” John said, taking the concealer out of his pocket.

“Well, if you hadn’t punched me and left marks we wouldn’t have this issue, would we now, love?”

John punched him the stomach, paying no mind when Elton grunted and slumped over. He pulled him back in an upright position forcefully and dabbed the concealer on his cheeks. “The things you say, Elton, make me want to kill you,” he said idly, almost conversationally.

Elton found himself blinking back tears. He would not give John the pleasure of seeing him cry. Not again. Especially not when he brought him the house of horrors itself...

Elton took a deep breath. John had never quite threatened his murder throughout their relationship, and it took a bit longer to compose himself. It was getting harder to fool himself into thinking their relationship was perfect with each passing day.

He rolled his eyes watching John and his mum’s soppy reunion. Privately, Elton always thought John had a thing for his mum and only stayed with him for the money. He was always much too happy to see the ice queen... 

Elton trudged up the brick walkway, keeping his eyes on his red velvet dress shoes. They could be dangerous when he was drunk and in as much pain as he was. 

He was stopped abruptly by his mum’s bony arms wrapping themselves around him. He almost brought them down upon each other. He grunted, the pain in his rib and his stomach made his vision briefly go white.  _ Fucking John _ , he thought, glaring over his mum’s head at the man. 

He was never good at receiving affection even when healthy. He did his best to hold back his flinch, but by the look on John’s face he was unsuccessful. He needed to work harder to keep up this fucking ruse it seemed... 

“Oh, my darling boy, it’s wonderful to see you! It’s been much too long! I invited a few people over to share dinner with us. Just some close friends, of course. They are all so excited to see you again, my famous lad! Come now, come now. It’s much too cold to be standing about. You’ll catch your death, you will, and then what will the masses do?” 

And she laughed shrilly, like it was the best joke ever told. He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.  _ God forgive me, but I bloody hate her... _

She took his hand, leading him into the house like he was still in knickerbockers. His jaw dropped when he saw just how crowded the small house actually was. He would welcome death with open arms now. “A couple of people, Mum...,” he asked.  _ And now my voice is cracking like a lad heading through puberty. How embarrassing... _

“Yes, yes. Just a couple,” she murmured, leading him into the main parlor. “Look everyone! Elton has arrived!”

Elton flushed as a roar of applause reached his ears. He stared at John, who smirked back. The bastard had to have known, and planned a night of smirking at Elton’s distress. Elton turned his gaze to the crowd, hoping against hope he actually knew at least one person there. 

He did a stupid little bow, refusing to play John’s game. He kept ahold of his hat in a flamboyant motion which made the crowd laugh. He accepted the bottle of beer from his stepfather with a nod of thanks. Even after all these years, Fred was still a fountain of support, and even after all he had drank that day, he was much too sober for this performance.

_ Because, really, this is what it is, innit? A bloody performance to show mum’s influence. Over me, over John, over all the people in this room... _

He made the rounds with a smile on his face, speaking with his mum’s ‘friends’, some of which he had known since he was a wee lad. They were in such awe of his success Elton was truly uncomfortable. The things he was asked or told truly was astounding.  _ Yes, I do quite well for myself, thank you. Yes, I really do play the piano and sing myself. No, I haven’t led a satanic sacrifice to ensure my songs are played on the radio. No, I do not slaughter animals for fur for my any costumes. No, I don’t have orgies after my concerts every night, only twice a week, thanks. _

He collapsed on the loveseat beside his Nan when he finally spied her. He really had to wonder what his mother said to her circle for them to believe even half of that rubbish. He took off his hat, running his hair through his thinning hair. “Nan, why would mum do this to me? Her ‘love’ is going to kill me one day, I swear,” he whined, sounding much younger than his 34 years.

“I don’t know, Reggie. Fred and I tried to talk her out of it, but you know how she gets when she has her mind set on something. She is awfully proud of you, in her own way, and wants to show you off.”

“Right. Everyone wants to show me off. No one really wants me…,” he said, putting the hat back on. “I know you hate my hats, Nan, but I can’t stand how thin it’s gotten. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, darling. Are you quite alright? You don’t look so good. Are you very drunk?”

He put his arm around her. “Of course I’m drunk, Nan. How could I not be, coming here? But I’m fine, just tired,” he assured her with as much sincerity as he could. He looked at the crowd again, hearing snippets of conversation that rather worried him. He really did not want to play anything on the aging piano for this crowd... The anxiety was rising again, spots blurred his vision, watching the group mingle with John and his mum, seemingly ignoring him for now. 

“Want to step outside, Nan?,” Elton asked, his voice much higher than normal. He needed to get out of the room as soon as possible before he made a scene. 

“Of course, Reggie, dear. Let me get my coat. I’ll meet you out in the garden.”

Elton sighed in relief, almost tripping over himself in his rush. He took another beer from the icebox on his way out the back door. He could do the garden without a panic attack. He had nothing but happy memories gardening with his Nan, unlike every other blasted room in the house. Fresh vegetables, beautiful plants and flowers, all tended to by her loving hand. He would sit out there for hours growing up after school, helping when he was deemed old enough, always singing along to the radio at her request.

She was the reason he lived through his childhood and teenage years. The reason he lived through the beginning of his career. The reason he was even living now. She was his heart.

He watched her exit the house, her cane in hand. She leaned heavily on it. Elton found himself wondering when she had aged so much, and why he was not there more often. He would really need to change that... He rushed to her side, taking her arm in his. “Thank you, dear boy,” she said, patting his arm. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

He led her to the bench they had painted together so many years ago, and helped her sit. He put one arm around her, cuddling her as she did him when he was small. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “My life is shit, Nan,” he moaned.

“Your life is what you make of it, Reggie, like I have always said,” she replied, squeezing his thigh reassuringly in an effort to counteract the bite of her words. “You told me once, long ago, the advice that changed your direction. That you had to kill the person you were born to be to become the person you want to be. Tell me, Reggie, truthfully, is this who you wanted to be? A young man who was so full of hope, now drowning in liquor and fear?”

“No,” he said, holding back his tears. He cleared his throat. “No… I thought I’d be happy still. But I’m not. I’m really not. I’m a fucking mess.”

“Then change it, Reggie. You can. You have more strength within you than you realize.” Elton snorted and took a long pull of the drink. “Truly, Reg, you just need to believe in yourself, and surround yourself with people who do as well. It will be hard, and the road to happiness can be daunting, but it is so, so worth it.” She kissed his forehead. “Whatever happened to that Bernie fellow? You were inseparable for years. I haven’t seen you on the tele with him in a long while.”

“We had a… disagreement. He went back to his ranch, I continued the tour.”

“He was always so good to you, Reg. I’m saddened you let him go.”

Elton chuckled. “I am too, Nan. I am too.”

They sat in silence, staring at the stars in the sky. She had taken his beer from him quickly, saying he smelled as though he bathed in it. She kept him focused on the sky and the constellations thereafter, not leaving him time to miss the drink. 

He was feeling quite content for the first time in so long he was almost afraid to breathe.

“I’ll distract everyone if you need to get away, you know. I’m more than happy to do it. Just like when you were small and needed to get away from your da’ and mum.”

He beamed at her. “You’re the best, Nan. Truly. Thank you.”

She smiled back. He helped her stand and took his bottle of beer back from her with a grin. “I’d go see your friend Ray’s place first. He isn’t far from here. He picks me up for Sunday brunch every week still. He is wonderful, and misses you.”

Elton’s smile grew. “He still does Sunday brunch with you? That is great to hear. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around, Nan.”

She kissed his cheek. “I know, dear. I know Pinner is not easy for you, even on the best of days. Remember I love you, Reggie, and will always be a phone call away if you need anything. Live your life for you, not for anyone else. Promise me?”

Elton nodded, unable to speak. He watched her limp to the door. He took off running through the back yard and hopped the back fence with ease, just like he had so many years ago. He smiled freely, feeling the weight that had been choking him almost cease as he ran. He felt like he had a purpose again. 

He could do this!

He only fell twice, but kept his bottle intact. It was a personal record.


	4. Chapter 4

Ray cursed when he heard the landline ring. He was stooped over the oven door about to pull the steak and kidney pie out. The phone  _ never _ rang when he was not in the middle of something, and it seemed to always end up being important. Ray looked from his hands covered in oven mitts and the phone that continued to bloody ring. He groaned.

“Bernie, mate, I know you’re resting and shit but can you get that? I don’t want the pie to burn, it took ages to make... It might be your mum calling back.”

“Sure,” Bernie yelled back, as he was already walking towards the phone anyway. He leaned on the cane Ray had insisted upon slightly. He was feeling a bit better every day. He no longer needed the cane for shorter distances like the wall phone, but he used it to keep the peace. He really was still nowhere near the strength he was, and would always acknowledge the fact to Ray to keep him from mother henning... He picked up the receiver and leaned against the wall. “Ray’s place. Can I help you?”

Bernie waited a tic, hearing on cars passing in the background and heavy gasping on the other end. No voice was heard. He spoke the greeting again, a bit more agitated than he had meant to be. He would be quite cross if he got up for nothing, after all.

“ _ Bernie _ ?!?”

“Reggie?,” Bernie asked. He almost dropped it in his shock. Reg was the very last person he had expected to hear from when picking up the line. He pinched his arm and winced.  _ Not a dream. Just beyond surreal _ , he thought. “Is that really you?”

“ _ Yeah, it’s me. What’re you doing at Ray’s? I called the right number, dinnit I?” _

“Yeah, you did. I’ve been here a week now. The ‘break’ did not work in my favor...”

_ “Wow, alright. Sounds like we have some stories to share over crumpets, aye? I was on my way to Ray’s, long fucking story, and realized I didn’t have his address. I am in a tele booth because I had to get his address out of the phone book. I forgot to ask Nan for it before I escaped. I figured when I found it I’d call ahead to make sure he was there.” _

“Yeah, we’re both here. Come over, Reg. Ray’s made supper.”

Elton?, Ray mouthed, his eyes comically wide. Bernie nodded. A ghost of a smile crossed his face when Ray ran his fingers through his hair, his face a wonderful mix of joy and consternation. He wondered briefly if his face mirrored his own. 

“We’ll see you soon,” Bernie said, hanging up the phone. “I mean, what are the bloody odds, mate?”

“I know. I’ll… I’ll go set another place at the table. I need a bloody drink, mate. This is the last thing I expected.”

Bernie limped back to the recliner, feeling spent. He quite agreed. He wondered just how close by he really was, and sincerely hoped Reg actually came.

If not, he would surely have to kill him for interrupting his sleep, he thought as he took another pill.

***********************

Elton walked up  _ another _ bloody staircase, gasping for his breath. He did not realize just out of shape he truly was until the trek to Ray’s apartment.  _ I need to start dancing or something on stage. This is bloody ridiculous _ , the thought as he stopped on the third floor landing, leaning against the wall. 

He took out his white handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. He knew by the time he made it to 403 the makeup would be gone. The questions he didn’t  _ really _ want to answer would be asked, and he would have no clue how to answer them. 

He cursed himself for running from the crowd awaiting the elevator for the umpteenth time.

He pulled out his flask, and took a long pull. The alcohol burned his already flaming throat. He lost count how much he had to drink that day, that week, but he was sure it was beyond what a human body was actually capable of consuming. 

He stumbled up the last staircase, falling to his knees. He gave in and crawled the rest of the way, and finally made it to the blasted fourth floor landing. 

He lay on the carpeted floor, hacking coughs making his whole body shudder. He tried to forget just how dirty the floor truly was, and managed to regain control of his breathing. He had not seen Ray in 3 years, and Bernie 8 months. He would make a terrible ‘first’ impression if he could not compose himself properly.

When he finally felt ready, he used the wall to pull himself up. Using the wall for support as he walked or had fallen was second nature at this point in his life. John scoffed at him each time he saw him do it. He reminded Elton of how pitiful he was, not even capable of walking like a real man.

He shook his head to clear it. He reminded himself that John was not here. That he would never be there again, if he had his way. It didn’t  _ really _ matter what he thought.

_ But it does. It really does _ …, Elton thought, fighting back tears, remembering his cold words outside his mum’s. Gods, he felt so wretched.

Elton walked by the door twice, so lost in thought as he was. He wondered briefly how long he had before John tracked him down. His Nan was a wonderful woman, but John could charm his way through anyone. He would be so angry with him. He took a shuddering breath. His injuries began to make themselves known, the exertion more than his weakened body could stand, and he knew the moment John found him he would have so much pain he would beg for death. He really wondered if this whole trek was worth it. He found himself staring at the lift wondering if he should just duck in and go back to his private hell...

It took a few moments, but he finally raised his knuckles to knock.

Ray answered just as Elton turned, gazing at him with his signature beaming smile. Like Elton truly mattered to him, not just as a musician and performer, but as a real person. Elton shut his eyes, fighting down the wave of grief that threatened to take hold, again, (he hadn't seen that look directed at him in ages by anyone other than his Nan that very evening, and he really needed to see it more often...), and pasted what he hoped was a sincere smile on his face. 

His fists clenched inside the pockets of his blue slacks, his fingernails digging into his palms, the pain a reminder to breathe.

“Alright, Ray, mate? It’s… Uh… It’s been a while.”

“Get in here, you old fruit,” Ray said, pulling him through the doorway, laughter in his voice. 

Elton allowed himself to be led to the living area, feeling more and more like he was swept up in a dream. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, seeing Bernie asleep in the reclining chair. “He just took some pain medicine,” Ray explained. “He’s not doing so great at the moment. He’ll be up again soon, though. He’s quite happy you rang.”

Elton nodded, perching himself on the very edge of the sofa. The urge to flee back to John and beg for forgiveness came back full force. Seeing Bernie looking so poorly was not what Elton had expected.

He took in Bernie’s features and could not help his grimace. Saying the break didn’t work in his favor was a horrible understatement. Bernie looked just terrible, and Elton himself was to blame. He took the glass of water handed to him absentmindedly, noticing the cane that sat propped beside Bernie for the first time.

“Why’s he got a cane then?”

“He has a hard time walking. From what I have gotten out of him since he arrived he worked from sun-up to sun-down, barely taking breaks. He ignored the pain as long as he could. His doctor had said that the muscles will heal themselves over time, but he didn’t like taking it easy like they advised, of course. He’ll probably never quite be the same.”

Elton nodded. Of course Bernie would go into physical work when he left the tour. He always worked his body when he had too many thoughts and feelings to sort through, though he usually chose the gymnasium. Elton had always been envious of Bernie’s fit body. Elton had the drink and drug, Bernie had the physical pain. Neither were very healthy outlets, he was assured.

“He looks poorly,” Elton said, watching the soft rise and fall of Bernie’s chest, as though it were a lifeline.

“Aye. It’s heartbreaking to see him this way,” Ray agreed, sitting beside Elton on the sofa. "I thought you were touring in Ireland?"

"I was. Er… I am. John flew us here to see my blasted mum since I have 3 days of open schedule."

"Is he quite mad?"

Elton snorted. "I asked him that myself… I am beginning to think so, yes, no matter how he denies. Nan helped me escape the 'small' party held in my honor. She told me to come see you. Do you really still take her for Sunday brunch?"

"Aye… when you two knuckleheads fled to America I couldn't very well end the tradition, could I? It would have broken her poor heart.”

“Thank you, Ray. She’s the most important person to me. Without her, I wouldn’t be here today, literally and figuratively.”

Ray nodded. “It is no bother. She’s lovely. Bernie is coming with me this weekend. Too bad you will be back in Ireland by then, or the musketeers could be back in action.” He got to his feet. “Wake the troll, will you, and join me in the kitchen? Dinner’s been ready for a bit and I’d rather not let it get any colder.”

“I’ll wake Bernie, but no need to set a place for me. I’ve uhh… I’ve already eaten.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “And I’m the queen of England... Honestly Elton, you are skin and bones. A little food will do you good. Now scoot.”

Elton watched as Ray left the room. He tripped over his own feet when he finally stood. Bernie awoke with a gasp, hearing Elton’s colorful cursing.

“I told you those shoes would get you killed.”

“Shut up, twat,” Elton grumbled, lifting himself to his knees. “It’s not the shoes. I’ve just had a bit too much to drink this year,” he explained, doing his darndest to keep a straight face. He burst into a fit of giggles at Bernie’s look of fond exasperation.

Bernie could not help but laugh as well as he stood. Grasping his cane in his hand he slowly made his way to Elton. He helped him to his feet. “That’s an understatement if I’ve heard one, mate,” he said, hugging him close. “It’s good to see you, Reg.”

Elton felt himself melt in the embrace. He could not help the choked sob that followed. Bernie always felt like coming home. It was only then that he realized just how much he had missed him. “I’m sorry, mate. For everything.”

Bernie shushed him. “I know. You were forgiven long ago. You’re my brother, Reg.”

Elton wiped his eyes with his hand and cleared his throat. “Ray said he made dinner for you. Let’s get you to the kitchen, mate.”

“And for you too, asshat,” Ray said, as he watched them stumble into the kitchen. “Sit, eat, and be fucking merry or some shit.”

Elton laughed, ignoring the sharp pains in his rib and stomach the best he could. He had forgotten how good it felt to really laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elton realizes his friends mean well, truly, but honestly? He feels he is undeserving.

“I know I spend a good portion of my time high, Ray, but I swear to God you owned a house last time I saw you,” Elton said, moving his fork over the pie. It smelled quite tasty, but Elton just could not bring himself to actually eat any. He really did not think either would give him time to expel it after. He was finally at a weight that John touched him again.

_ Wait, I don’t want him around anymore, do I? So that part doesn’t matter, does it?, _ Elton thought, hitting his head with his fist. He really needed to stop the drink. He used to be such a functional addict. He got much too confused lately.

“I did, yes. I sold it last year when the wife left with the lads. One man alone in a 5 bedroom house seemed rather daft.”

“Quite,” Elton muttered, thinking about his own 7 bedroom estate, and just how lonely it will be when he finally returned… If he ever returned... “I… Blimey, I didn’t know you were separated, mate…”

Ray shrugged. “I didn’t put out a bloody ad or anything, and we’ve been out of touch for a while. Your fault, of course. I see the munchkins every other weekend, and I don’t have to see the cunt everyday. Win win.”

“Right,” Elton nodded again, rather awkwardly. “You haven’t got something stronger, have you?,” he asked, lifting the glass of water with pure disgust. “I can’t think properly without it anymore.”

_ Or wait, I can’t think properly with it? Ugh, this is horrid...  _ He hit his head again. He needed a bloody rest.

“Not for you, mate. You are slurring every word as is. You might be used to it, but it’s driving me bonkers, mate,” Ray said. Elton tried not to let the significant look he shared with Bernie affect him, but he could not help fidgeting like a scolded child when they turned their gaze back to him. Ray nodded at the plate. “Eat the damn food. It’s heavenly, I promise.”

Elton only huffed, putting the water back on the table. He folded his arms across his chest, tapping his feet impatiently on the tile.

“I’m really not hungry. Like I told you, I ate at my mums.”

Bernie scoffed. “Liar. You couldn’t stomach food when we lived there, mate. You don’t honestly think we believe you ate there willingly tonight...”

Elton only shrugged. He couldn’t dispute that point, not really. They both already knew he was lying. He used to be so much better at convincing people of things. He was rather disappointed with himself.

“So why exactly were you at your mum’s anyway?,” Bernie asked. “I still can’t get that through my head. You can’t have gone willingly?”

Elton leaned forward, a ghost of a smile on his face, glad for the distraction. “John decided to surprise me with a visit to my mum’s since we were ‘nearby’. No, it was not at all willingly, but he has a way of convincing me to do things…” Why did he say THAT? He cleared his throat. “She ended up inviting everyone she ever knew, it seems, and it got so stuffy in there, so with my Nan’s help I escaped over the fence. Remember when we used to do that, Bernie? When mum was on a rampage over whatever seemingly wronged her?”

No need to say it was usually him, was it?

Bernie nodded, the troubled look still on his face. 

“Is that why you're moving stiffly then? Not used to the exercise, mate?,” Ray asked, with a damn raised eyebrow he must have learned from Bernie while he was away.

Elton loosened his tie, quite uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “What’s with the twenty questions, lads? Surely your lives must be more interesting than mine. Work, work, and more work.” He dabbed his face with his handkerchief again, feeling the flaming heat that just would not fade. 

They continued to stare. Elton finished his water quickly, his throat suddenly quite dry. He wished he hadn’t emptied his flask in that be damned hallway. He needed a stiff one  _ right now _ with their bloody concern.

“Why is it so hot in here, Ray? Do you have the heat on? Who keeps the heat on in April?,” he babbled nervously. He cleared his throat, looking down at the table. “Bernie, wha… what have you been up to since you left?”

“Reg, do you have black eyes?,” Bernie asked, leaning forward to see him more clearly. 

Elton pinched the bridge of his nose. “I fell.”

“Into John’s fist, I imagine.”

“Jesus, shit, Bernie. Just leave it. You too, Ray.” He got to his feet. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll… I’ll just see myself out.”

“Christ, Elton, sit down,” Ray said, throwing his napkin on the table. “We are your best mates, and we are concerned. You can’t always run when things get uncomfortable, mate.”

“You’re always fucking worried, Ray! I’ve made it this far without you, haven’t I? Either of you! What’s another day, week, year, huh, until we meet up again? I can’t seem to die, no matter how hard John tries! I don’t need you, either of you. I don’t... need... anyone...”

Elton leaned against the wall of the small kitchen, great heaving sobs shaking his entire body. “I don’t deserve your concern. I don’t deserve either of you. You’re better off without me. I’m a fucking tool. A means to an end. That’s all I’ll ever be. Why I ever thought I had a purpose...”

He all but ran out the door. He needed to get out. He needed to get away.

Neither man followed. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or pissed that they let him go as he sat at the local pub long after closing. A few hundred pound notes could get him anything it seemed.

_ Except a new personality _ , he thought, thinking about the stupid confrontation in the kitchen. Did he really have to mention John so much? Gods, but he was so fucking dramatic sometimes it hurt his soul. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have already written. Updates won't be as fast as they were with my other stories. I hope the refresher of what was posted is well received, and once I deal with some personal issues, I'll be posting again on the regular. Thanks as always for taking this trip with me.

For the first time in his life Elton found himself waking in a back alley. He had woken in strange hotel rooms, strange houses, execs offices long after closing, and even the hospital once or twice, but never an alley.  _ Bucket list worthy it seems, you old fool, _ he thought as rubbed his face with a groan. He patted his pockets, thankful to feel his billfold and other personals in his pocket. 

The damn sun was mocking him, being all cheerful when was trying to figure out how he got in this absurd position. He slowly got to his feet with a moan, every muscle in his body protesting each movement. He stumbled on to the street, trying to figure out just where the hell he was, and why.

_ What the bloody hell happened last night? Is this fucking Pinner?, _ he thought, scrubbing his face with the back of hand. _ Right… escaped my mum’s, made a fool of myself in front of my mates, maybe lost said mates, drank until I couldn’t even see anymore, and must have collapsed in this alley near the bar. All in a night's work, it seems... _

He looked down at his diamond watch, thankful it was not nicked during the night from hell. His nose wrinkled, taking in the dried vomit on his expensive suit. John would be spitting angry if he saw him now.

He groaned. John was really going to kill him when saw him next. He had left him hours ago now. Plenty of time for him to consider creative ways of torture...

It was 10 am, and from what he saw he was still close to Ray's flat. He stood for a long moment, trying to decide his next course of action. Walk back to Ray’s and maybe make amends? Or go back to John and deal with whatever punishment John thought up during the course of the night like the man he pretended to be. 

He forced himself to walk towards the complex. Ray and Bernie were easy. He would take the damn elevator this time, tough, and beg forgiveness from his friends. It was the right thing to do.

Then he would taxi to his mum’s and deal with John’s rage. It was already shaping up to be a bloody long day...

*********

“Is he still out there?,” Bernie asked, flipping through the latest issue of  _ Rolling Stone _ Ray had on his coffee table. The speculation of Reg and his split was still front page news even 8 months later. He wished they found something better to write on. It was becoming ridiculous, the interviews from their unnamed ‘closest friends’

“Aye,” Ray said, keeping an eye on Elton through the peephole. He was still pacing back and forth, talking to the wall after fifteen minutes. “He keeps flapping his arms like a bird while arguing to himself. Or the wall. Y’know, I’m not sure which now.”

Bernie rolled his eyes and chuckled, seeing the picture Reg must make in his mind’s eye. “Just open the damn door, Ray. You will stand there for hours if you wait on him. We both know it.”

“But it’s bloody hilarious watching him, Bern. Here, come see!”

“Just put the bloke out of his misery, Ray.”

“You have gotten very dry in your old age, Bernie.”

“You’re older than me, mate.”

“And Elton is older than us both, yet he’s acting like a child…” Bernie raised his eyebrow. “Oh, very well. Spoilsport...”

Elton jumped when the door opened, putting his hand on his chest in shock. “Oh… Umm… Hey mate.”

“Get in here, you bloody twat. You ready to try this again?”

Elton nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry ‘bout last night and all.”

“Used to it, mate,” Bernie said, throwing the magazine under the newspaper already spread on the coffee table. No need for Elton to see it. He got to his feet, and wrapped his arms around him. “There are clothes you can change into in the bathroom. Take a shower and shave and become a human being, then you’re forgiven. You look and smell like shite, mate. They’ll be coffee and toast waiting when you’re ready. And you WILL eat, Reg, even if I have to force it.”

“That easy?,” Elton asked uncertainly. “Surely there’s a catch somewhere…”

They both nodded firmly. “Yes, that’s it. Now go,” Ray said, pushing him forward. “We’ll talk later about everything, don’t you think differently. But for right now, just focus on cleaning up, alright?”

Elton nodded quickly. He did not deserve their forgiveness, he did not deserve their friendship, but damn it all if he was going to fuck it up so soon.

*************************

Elton stood in front of the mirror, pulling nervously at the hem of the white tee shirt the lads had left out for him. Between the tee and the loose gray joggers Elton felt like he was almost  _ normal _ . He had not dressed so plainly in years… Hell, even if his underwear drawer was full of bright patterns! Placing his glasses back on his face, he felt like a new person. 

He was not sure if he liked the feeling….

He rubbed self-consciously at his bare forearms, littered with cuts and scars and needle jabs. The plain clothes were one thing, he could make himself handle those. His bare skin was certainly another... “Hey, umm… lads? You don’t have a long sleeve shirt I could wear, do you? I might catch a chill,” he called out from behind the closed door. 

“Good God above! You’re fine, Elton! Come on, your coffee’s getting cold,” Ray shouted back.

Elton huffed, turning his arms over.  _ Fine indeed.. _ , he thought, opening the door with a bit more force than intended.  _ Questions, questions, and more questions will be asked… Just what I wanted to avoid... _

He stopped short in kitchen doorway, seeing a full english breakfast spread. He raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this then? You said I was only having toast?”

“You might only be having toast, but I’m rather hungry,” Bernie said, spearing a grilled tomato from the platter. He nodded at the seat Elton occupied the night before. “Sit.”

Elton sat, folding his arms across his chest. The food smelled heavenly, exactly as it would every morning when Bernie and he set out on their own. Bernie would cook every breakfast and supper they ate in the flat, and Elton would do the dishes. It was their unbroken routine.

“Remember the day I tried to cook you breakfast for your 21st birthday, Bern?,” Elton said, a ghost of a smile on his face.

Bernie laughed heartily. “How could I forget? I was hung over as fuck and I woke up to the bloody fire brigade knocking down the door!” He looked at Ray, who had snorted tea through his nose. “Reggie here didn’t realize you need to actually watch bacon when you are cooking it, so went to the piano to compose, and nearly burned down the complex with a bleeding grease fire.”

Elton shrugged. “How was I to know you don’t pour water on a grease fire? I was a very sheltered lad, you know.”

Ray banged the table with his fist. He was doubled over with laughter. 

“From that day forth if the oven or stove were in use, Reggie was to stay on the other side of the flat. He was just pure bad luck when it came to the kitchen…”

“He made me hire a cook the moment I bought my estate, too, on the off chance I might want to eat something that couldn’t be put together without heat,” Elton said. “He even called and checked in every week with the cook to ensure I didn’t touch anything. The cook dreaded those Saturday morning calls, he did. I ended up having to give him a raise to stay on after he accidentally admitted I’d baked cookies one night, while pretty baked myself. Did you know flour is not optional when baking? Even my dog turned his nose up at it.”

Elton reached for his coffee, feeling so happy he had forgotten about his scars. Bernie reached for Elton’s arm, caressing his forearm gently, then placing his fingers on the bruises. “Reg, those bruises, they’re the shape of fingers, mate.”

Elton nodded. He was much too tired to come up with an elaborate story. John gripped his wrist quite hard when pulling him from the jet when they landed. “They match the rest of me, Bernie. I quite like matching sets,” he said instead, trying to bring light to the mood. 

From both Bernie and Ray’s face, though, he saw it did not work as he liked.

“Really, lads, I’m fine,” he tried to assure them instead. “I’ve already decided I am probably not going back to John anyway so…”

“‘Probably’?,” Ray interrupted. “What do you mean by ‘probably’? Elton, you cannot honestly sit there and think to yourself going back to him is a good idea? I’ve told you for years he’s bad news...”

“Well, no, not really. Even I can’t lie to myself that well... But honestly, mates, what am I actually supposed to do? He’s been my bloody life for 10 years. Our lives are entwined both in business and pleasure. If I cut him out, I’m ruined.”

“Professionally, perhaps, but look at yourself, Reg. Aren’t you already ruined, perhaps BECAUSE of him?,” Bernie asked. His voice was soft, his words hesitant, not wanting to cause any conflict, but to make Elton truly think. 

Elton hated him for it. He hated it when Bernie had to go and make sense...

He looked down at his arms again, tracing the newer cuts done up by his switchblade just the day prior. When John had told him quite frankly just how much he couldn’t stand him, and how he’d be collecting his 20% long after he finally killed himself. 

Then there were the other, deeper cuts, from the evening before in the loo before he found his Nan, when John said he wanted to kill him. The newer cuts zigged and zagged across the faint scars from over the years. When the drink and drug just could not tune John’s words out. Maybe he would be better off if he truly let John go.

He hit his temple. “I can’t think that deep right now, Bern,” he almost whimpered, his eyes shut tight. “Please don’t make me.”

Bernie took pity on Elton. “You’ve had a hard night, Reg. Come on, you can rest in the room I’m using. You don’t look like you’ve had a decent sleep in weeks.”

“I really could use some sleep, mate. Sleeping in an alley isn’t quite what it’s cracked up to be…”

Bernie’s heart broke. He knew they should have followed him the night before. That nothing good could come of the emotional mess Elton had been when he fled. Ray had been adamant that Elton would just go back to his hotel room and wake up feeling better. It would only make sense, Ray had said. 

Bernie should know Elton better by now, that things that make sense to others don’t even cross his mind.

Bernie helped Elton to the bedroom. He pulled back the comforter and tucked him in like he would do after every bender when he was nearby. He kissed Elton’s forehead, wishing him a good rest. He turned to go when Elton took his wrist in his hand.

“Stay? Please? Just for a little while?”

He sounded so lost, so weak, Bernie could hardly say no. He lay in bed, holding Elton close, soothing him with his touch and quiet murmurs. When Elton finally gave in and slept, Bernie lay beside him for a long while, trying to figure out the best way to get him out of the shitty situation. 

That’s why he flew to London in the first place. To help save Elton from himself. And he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheila, Ivy and Fred team up to ensure Elton has a chance to be free.

Sheila was never what one might call a ‘good’ mother. She would readily admit to being an absent mother for most of her son’s life. He really was an awkward child, and she found herself wondering just where he got his mannerisms. Stanley was an arsehole, but he was an intelligent and smooth fellow. She was very social and popular within her circles. 

Elton was always so… different. Not because he was a homosexual, no. He had quite the eye for fashion even as a young lad. He was intelligent, and a right prodigy on the keys, but he was an introverted and flighty mess even when he was a tot. 

When he first introduced John to herself and Fred, Sheila fell in love. John was everything she had hoped for in a son. He was strong, charismatic, handsome, funny... everything Elton lacked. She had thought it was a joke, at first, when Elton had said they were seeing each other, and it took much convincing and John’s quiet proclamation for her to believe it. 

Elton did not return her calls for months after the first meeting. Fred said she deserved it. 

John seemed like the perfect partner for her imperfect son. He was a bit controlling, but Elton explained as he had the role of manager as well, it was to be expected. Welcomed even. Sheila only nodded, but decided to keep an eye on the goings on as best as she could.

She had watched John manhandle Elton outside the door from the window. She heard Elton’s quiet moan when she hugged him close. She had seen the mass of bruises and cuts on his arms when he sipped at his beer and made his rounds. She had heard the threats to her son by John for bringing attention to his injuries.

She had even heard the death threat.

She knew she had to handle this. She knew her son grew up thinking he lacked worth thanks to her and Stanley’s teachings, and her quip about never being loved properly did not help. But no one threatened to kill her baby, not even himself.

Fred would have take over her duties in the kitchen, the poor man. She resolved to keep John busy for the evening, giving Elton the out he deserved. Elton would not accept help from her, and she deserved that, but from his Nan, he would accept anything.

_ What’s a little subtle manipulation between family _ , she thought as she beckoned Fred and her mum to the kitchen.

***********************

“John, dear, have you seen Elton? Fred is about to bring out the roast,” Sheila asked, knowing quite well Elton had escaped hours ago. She was also bored and wanted to wipe the dark smirk off the man's face. 

She watched John get to his feet, taking in the room quickly. “No, I don’t see that goddamned cowboy hat anywhere, darling. Give me a mom’, I must go find him.”

The look in his eyes almost made her, the queen of ice, shudder. She knew there was something truly wrong, and this was the proof she needed. She caught Fred’s eye as he lingered in the doorway, and she smiled when he had nodded.

The car would not be starting again that evening. Seems even their driver had a bone to pick with that horrid man.

She sipped at her tea, watching John become increasingly irritated. Ivy had him sat on the loveseat beside her. Each time he went to try to look for him some more, her mum would distract him again with her naive dribble. He did not actually expect to win, when it came between a mother, grandmother, and their cub, did he? 

John would spend the night here, of course. She would contact the boys’ first thing and caution against Elton being found. Perhaps she could begin to make penance for her lack of action while he was growing up.

She really did miss her gawky boy...


	8. Chapter 8

“Reg? Reg, buddy, time to get up.”

Bernie watched as Elton fumbled under the pillow with a gasp, panicking when he must have realized his knife was missing. Bernie’s heart broke seeing the terror filled eyes trained on himself. Bernie had hidden the knife in his bag when he found it hours ago. There was no real reason for him to have it under the pillow. He was safe there.

“Mate, it’s okay. It’s just me, Bernie. Come back to me, Reggie. Come back to me now, darling.”

Elton’s breath began to even out and the horror slowly left his eyes as Bernie continued to speak in soft tones. “There. That’s better. But it really is time to get up now, mate. We have places to go, people to see, all that jazz.”

Elton scrubbed his face with his hand. “The fuck you on about, mate?”

“We need to leave, Elton. John will be knocking on that door at anytime. I’ve let you sleep for as long as I felt comfortable. Sheila and Nan Ivy did a wonderful job keeping him occupied while you rested, but he will figure out what’s wrong with your car soon enough, and then he will be on the prowl. I won’t let him get his claws into you again, Reggie.”

Elton slowly sat up, running his fingers through his hair. “You realize he will find me no matter, right?,” he said slowly. “And that I have a sold-out show to do tomorrow night? Back in Belfast? I can’t just hop on a plane and leave, mate, without him finding out anyway. You must know that is not logistically possible…”

Bernie handed him his eyeglasses. “Perhaps, but I’d be a horrid friend if I didn’t at least try. Ray has our itinerary sorted. I have some of his clothes in my bag that will fit you for now. But we really need to get going, mate.”

“Bernie, this is absurd… Even for you. It’s not like he hasn’t threatened me before. I’ll be perfectly fine going…”

“No, Reggie! No, you will not be ‘perfectly fine’ going back to him. Why are you being so obstinate? Death threats are no fucking laughing matter.”

“He only did it the one time, Bernie, really no need to get your knickers in a twist… Wait, how in the world did you even know about that? I may have been wasted, but I don’t remember telling either of you about that…”

Bernie looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Your mum, actually. She overheard…”

“Of course she did… Fucking hell, mate.”

“She is trying to help you.”

“No, she is trying to anger John enough for him to follow through. She loves him and hates me, Bernie.”

Bernie only shook his head. “However you feel she feels is not getting us out the door. I’m serious, Reggie. Stop being a cunt and let’s fucking go.”

Elton got to his feet and trudged towards the bathroom. He did not know quite what to do, but he had a feeling he would end up with no choice in the matter either way. He splashed cool water on his reddened face with shaking hands. 

_ What a time for a fucking withdrawal to begin… _

He opened Ray’s medicine cabinet, looking for anything to take the edge off before it became too bad. He sorted through the over the counter bottles, reading through the labels, wondering which would be most effective. He was so tired of functioning. He was tired of trying to be strong. He was nothing but a disappointment, hell even Bernie was upset with him now. He was just so so tired.

He stopped paying attention to the labels on the bottles as he swallowed the pills, as lost in thought as he was. The last thing he remembered was trying to put the many pill bottles back in the cabinet, wondering why he had taken so many, truly, that was just silly, before it all went back.

**********************************

Bernie paced the waiting room of the hospital, his arms folded across his chest. Reg had been rushed to the back _ hours _ ago, and they still had no word of his condition. Bernie could only think the worst. He still no idea how long Reg _ lay there _ , all _ alone _, before he finally worked up the courage to break open the bathroom door.

Ray was sprawled upon a chair, seemingly just dandy, while Bernie pulled at his own hair. Bernie wanted to punch him.

“Bernie, you’re going to wear a hole in the tile if you don’t just sit the bloody hell down, mate. There is nothing we can do at the mom’. You are working yourself into a tizzy and we don’t even know what’s happening.”

Bernie collapsed beside him. “He’s all alone, Ray,” Bernie moaned.

“Well, he probably isn’t. He no doubt has a bunch of pretty birds pumping his stomach.”

Bernie gave him a withering glare. “You know what I mean, tosser.”

“O’course I do, mate. I’m just trying to lighten the goddamn mood. Sue me.”

Bernie turned his gaze to the other side of the room. Sheila, Nan Ivy, and the fucking king wanker sat between them. He wished he had known Fred had recently bought the new police scanner. He would have bundled Reg up and drove him himself if he did. 

Sheila had been most apologetic, of course. She came across mostly condescending, and Bernie ensured she knew where she could stick her apologies... Even Nan Ivy’s hushing would not stop her.

Bernie could only hope that the bruises and other marks upon Reg’s body would cause enough of a stir that Reid would not be allowed near him for now. He had spent much of the time they had been waiting on the payphone trying to rearrange tour dates rather than show an ounce of concern for his lover. 

_ Because that is what is fucking important, of course, making money, _Bernie sneered.

Bernie closed his eyes. He was never a very patient man, that was Ray’s shtick. Reid always brought the worst out of him.

_ It was going to be a long bloody night… _

********************

Elton opened his eyes slowly. His throat still burned from the tubing. His limbs were shaky and he ached _ so much _! He groaned as he lifted himself up in the bed. He was a right tool for getting himself into this situation, especially having just dealt with having a gastric lavage done not too long ago. 

He wondered who found him.

He shifted the starched blankets looking for the call button. He was very glad they had not tied him down this time. Maybe he would not have to try to convince anyone it was NOT a suicide attempt, no matter what his ideation was at the time. He did not have to come clean on _ everything _, right? He had shows to do. He needed to get up and move.

He fell back on the bed with a sigh. _ Maybe moving will have to wait _, he thought, as a wave of nausea almost overtook him.

_ Bernie… _, he thought. Bernie must have found him. Oh, but he really was the self-indulgent prick John accused him of being. Bernie just wanted to ‘save’ him, and instead he was left picking Elton off the floor again…

He smiled winningly at the nurse as she entered the room. She barely glanced in his direction. He huffed as he fell back onto his pillows. 

_Gods but it is going to be a fucking long night... _


	9. Chapter 9

Elton sat in his jet, nursing his fifth tumbler of whisky. Bernie had tried to talk him out of returning to his estate upon his release. Elton had spoken with him a lot while he was in the hospital, dying of boredom, on the phone. Bernie tried to talk him out of allowing John to return with him, if he was so stubborn to have to return to his home. He had tried to talk him into going into a treatment center as well for his demons. _ You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Elton. You just can’t. _

Elton did not listen to him.

John was still banging on about how he was the laughing stock of the entertainment business at the present time and he had a lot of work to do to become a credible threat again. He had not stopped since they began the journey overseas. Elton continued to zone in and out of conversation, nodding in the right places, not wanting to feel the pain of John’s hand again so soon. 

John fucking terrified him.

“... Are you even fucking listening to me, Elton?”

Elton realized he had been nodding for quite a while, even during the blessed quiet. He banged his hand to his temple. “So… Sorry, John. I’m still feeling poorly. I’m listening again now, I promise.”

John sneered. “I wish you had bloody died that night, Elton.”

_ I do as well, John. You have no idea how much…, _ Elton thought, fighting back tears. _ Bernie, why didn’t I listen to you? You are always right. _ _You were my purpose..._

The rest of the flight was spent in silence.

*******************

“Bernie, you need to get up, mate. You need to eat something. It’s been a week now,” Ray said, standing beside the bed. He was truly worried for his friend. Bernie was but a shell of his normal self. He had left the bed to trek to the loo, only to collapse underneath the bedding soon thereafter. “We have brunch with Nan Ivy today, remember? I missed last week taking care of you, I can’t miss this week too…”

“So go,” Bernie whispered, burrowing further under the blankets. “I’m not.”

_ Well, that’s more than what I have gotten all week _ , Ray thought, still frowning down at the man. He had missed the weekend with his children as well due to Bernie’s health. It was declining rapidly. He was already poorly before this fiasco. _ Fucking Elton… Storms in, causes mayhem, and leaves without a care for the destruction… _

Ray sat down on the edge of the bed. “Bernie, Elton is an adult. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. It’s not what we wanted, but it’s what he wants. We have to continue on, Bernie. If we don’t, we are allowing Reid victory. And I sure as hell don’t want that, do you?”

“Leave… me.”

Ray sighed, patting Bernie’s back gently. “I’m going to brunch, mate. I’d appreciate you not killing yourself while I’m gone. I’d rather not have to move.”

Bernie lifted his arm out of the covers to flip him off. Ray could not help the smile that spread across his face. It was a bit of progress, surely.

********************

John had released a statement that was soaked up like a PR wet dream. The tour was postponed while Elton recovered from his ‘illness’, and an album of unreleased but recorded tracks was released to the general population to make up for it. It was certified gold within weeks.

He was back on top. The overdose was not mentioned in any publications, and when it was spoken of within their circles it was not believed by many. John ensured that. He had a… certain way with people.

At least if those people were not Elton…

Elton had not left his suite at all in the month since they returned. His days were spent mostly high, though he was watched closely by his help to ensure he never reached a tipping point. John paid them handsomely for it as he could not stand to be near him for longer than a few punches.

Elton did not blame him. He could not stand to be around himself.

The phone rang a lot. Elton ignored it on the good days, broke it on the bad days. His maid always replaced it within hours. The phone reminded him of Bernie, and how much he had hurt him by leaving.

He lay upon his bed, listening to the phone bloody ring and to his maid cleaning up the damage from his latest bender. He hurt, body, mind and soul. He turned over on his side, picking up the blasted phone. “What?,” he answered, flinching slightly at the raspiness of his tone.

_ “Finally deigned to answer a bloke, eh? Only took three bloody weeks…” _

“Ray?”

_ “Who else, you wanker?” _

Elton blinked. The vitriol in Ray’s voice was not something Elton had ever heard from him. “Everything alright?”

_ “No, it’s not bloody alright, Elton. It’s been _ weeks _ since you got on that bleeding jet and left, and Bernie has not left the bed for longer than a half hour since. You are killing him, mate. I have to force him to eat anything. I haven’t been to work in two weeks because I’m afraid he’s going to be dead when I return. He’s so fucking worried about you, and I don’t even understand why. You are an arse, and no doubt wrapped up in your own little world, forgetting the fact he was UNWELL BEFORE YOU EVEN SHOWED YOUR BLOODY FACE HERE!” _

“What can I do?,” Elton whispered, tears falling from his eyes. He had been so wrapped up in his own pity party he never thought Bernie would be having his own as well. Gods, he was a wretched man.

“_ Get on your jet and fucking get here, Elton. Be there for your mate, like he’s always been there for you. Show an ounce of self-preservation, leave the damn git behind, and do your best to show you deserve Bernie’s love and affection.” _

“Yes, yes… Alright. I’ll be on my way soon. Tell Bernie… Tell Bernie I’m coming.”

_ “Not until you actually show up. I will not have you backing out and causing him more grief. Just… Just get here, mate…” _

Elton hung up the phone quickly. “Hey, ummm… Shit, yeah, I don’t even know your name, but pack me a bag please, darling? I’m headed out today,” he said, rushing to his bathroom with a slight skip to his step. He could not remember the last time he had showered. 

He had a purpose now. After weeks of wallowing, he finally had a fucking purpose.


	10. Chapter 10

Bernie grunted as an unexpected weight was flung upon the bed. He peeked his head out from under the blanket, leaving the comforting darkness with a sigh, ready to confront whomever or whatever decided to disturb him. He was having such a wonderful dream about Reggie...

Reggie laying on his side beside him, his head lifted with his hand, beaming at him was the last thing he expected. “‘Lo Bernie!”

Bernie found himself blinking stupidly, unsure if he was still asleep or if this was a trick of his mind. He felt the urge to pinch himself to know for sure.

“Do you remember when we first moved into my parents’ house? Fred had found those rickety bunk beds on the corner, and it took you and he hours and many planks of wood to make them sturdy enough for us to use. After I had broken my thumb trying to help nail and you both refused to allow me in the room? I can’t remember how many times we even used both bunks! We would stay up late into the night cuddling on the bottom bunk, barely fitting, giggling like teenage girls at a slumber party, planning our lives from the moment we got our big break. Nothing was ever going to tear us apart, we had promised each other. We were going to be the unstoppable duo.”

Bernie smiled, thinking back to those many nights. “Reg and Bern forever,” he whispered. “Didn’t we have some silly handshake too?”

Elton laughed. “Yes, it was absurd really.”

“Truly.”

Elton sobered quickly. “Then I became… me… And well, I tore us apart...” Bernie opened his mouth to speak. “Shush, you. I’m talking. It’s impolite to interrupt when a bloke is trying to right wrongs, ya know…” Bernie waved his hand for Elton to continue. “You have always been my rock. You have been there from the very beginning, before I even really had faith in my abilities. You gave me the strength to go out and play. You broke through my histrionics with your underreacting at everything! You sat in the recording studio day after day while I struggled to create our vision, giving me direction when I truly lost. You went from arena to arena all over the world with me, gently reminding me where the hell we were when I was too high to remember, and never looking down on me, even while I could barely function. I truly was an embarrassment at the best of times, Bern, you can’t tell me differently. You dealt with me at my best, and my worst. You never even fought me even when I purposely pushed every last button...”

Bernie grasped Reg’s hand in his, squeezing gently when he heard his voice crack with suppressed emotion. He knew this was so hard for Reg. “Why would I fight you, Reg? You have enough people in your life waiting to do it themselves?”

“You’re too good, Bernie. Much, much too good. I never deserved you. But you know what? You never cared about that. And as hard as it will be, I want to try not to care about that either.”

“You have always deserved me. You have always deserved happiness and light. You have always deserved to be free, Reg. Free of pain, and hatred, and abusive asshats who pretend to care.”

Elton cleared his throat. “Being a closeted queer is not an easy thing to be. John came into my life without warning. He was everything I thought I wanted, in the beginning at least. I mean, how lucky was I, the first night in America finding a man who actually wanted to spend time with me? You and Ray, you have it easy. You both can find a willing bird to warm your bed anytime. Finding a man to do so is a deadly dance. I stayed with John for so long, taking the physical and verbal beatings, because it was easier than the dance… But John is killing me.”

“I agree. Thank you for being so honest with me, Reg. I can't remember the last time you were. I know how hard it is for you to speak on how you’re feeling. I appreciate the trust you have in me. That you have always had in me. You will never say anything that will me run off, please remember that.”

“Can we sleep now?,” Elton whined. “I’m sorry, mate, but that really sucked, and it’s been a bad month.”

Bernie chuckled, kissing Reg's forehead. And in a tangled mass of limbs, they slept, much better than they had during their month apart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter. This one is so full of hate I really disliked writing it... This story is coming to an end soon. Maybe one or two more chapters. Thanks to everyone who has kept up with this adventure. This is truly the last we'll see of John. I feel the need to say there WILL be a happy ending.

“You need to call him, Reg… As much as I hate it, you need to call him.”

Elton groaned, resting his head in his hand as he stirred milk into his tea. The feeling of bliss that he had upon waking when tangled with Bernie under the sheets left him abruptly. He did NOT want to all John and tell him where he was. He did NOT want to tell him they were officially over and that he was severing their working relationship as well. He did NOT want to deal with the aftermath of such a call.

_ Though, him finding me himself is also not something I wish to handle either… _ , Elton thought, sipping his tea. _ The maid will tell or has told him I left by now, and the only logical place I would go myself IS London. He is an intelligent man, as much as I hate to admit it... It will not take much for him to realize where I am staying either. _

“Alright… Alright… I’ll fucking call him. Don’t need him knocking down the door here, do we? You have a more private phone, Ray? Or only the one in the bleeding hallway?”

“You can use the one in my bedroom of course, Elton, but are you sure you want to speak to him alone?”

Elton waved him off and tried to smile reassuringly. From their expressions, though, it may have been more a grimace. He tried... “I’ll be fine, mate. Gotta learn to fight my own battles sometime, right?”

“It really doesn’t have to be today, Reg…”

_ Oh Bernie, sweet wonderful Bernie. What did I ever do to deserve such kindness from you… _ Elton hovered in the doorway, considering for a moment taking the call in the kitchen anyway, but he really did not think they could handle John’s hostility… Hell, he could barely handle John’s hostility… “I’ll be okay, Bern, I promise. No worries. And I really would feel better about this phone call if you both didn’t look like I was heading to execution, thanks…”

*****************

_ Worthless… Pitiful… Whore… _

“Elton! Open up the damn door now!”

_ Repulsive… Insolent… Hideous… _

“Reg, come on, love! Let’s us in!”

_ Animal… Beast… Sickening… _

“I’m going to break down the bloody door, Elton, so help me!”

_ Never good enough… Should have died… Despicable excuse for a man... _

“Reg, sweetheart… Dammit, Ray, we should have never let him in there alone…”

_ Just do the world a favor and fucking kill yourself, you bloody nutter… _

Elton screamed. A heart-rending noise more fit for a wounded animal than a man. He knew the conversation would be horrible, but he had not expected such malice from the man who once professed to love him. He heard such words over the course of their relationship, of course, but to hear the seemingly never ending stream of hate simply broke him.

He did not even take notice when the door was broken down, he was much too far in his mind.

*****************************

_ Friendship is simply being there. Through the highs, and especially through the lows, _ Bernie thought, holding Reggie close as he slept. _ Friendship is describing the facts of the situation, not allowing one's own feelings to get in the way, and helping the other through their anguish. Being vulnerable to each other. Reggie certainly has always made friendship difficult… _

It had been a long night. Bernie and Ray were both bruised and hurting from helping Reggie regain control of his faculties. He never knew just how strong Reggie was until his fists impacted his stomach. Ray had held him down, knowing Bernie was still weak, while Bernie forced some sedatives down Reggie’s throat. 

They would talk, yes, but they knew he would be unable to do so that night. Bernie and Ray had collapsed, exhausted, not long after Reggie’s breathing evened out. Bernie held Reg to his chest, Ray spooned Reggie’s back, hoping that the comfort of their bodies would give Reggie some much needed peace in sleep.

Bernie kissed the top of Reggie’s head. _ Oh, sweetheart, just what did that wanker say? What has he done to you to make you afraid of your own shadow? Can you find it in yourself to stand alone, without him by your side, and truly live?_

Bernie finally allowed the tears that had been threatening for hours finally fall. Life was not fair, no matter how successful you may be.


	12. Chapter 12

Elton sat behind the piano, scribbling notes on a page. It had been a long year, but he was excited to create again. He found himself amused at the newspaper and magazine headlines throughout his year off, ranging from heading a nudist colony to finally offing himself. This latest project was a gift he could not wait to share.

Bernie placed a cup of tea on top of the piano before kissing the top of Elton’s head. “Thought you could use some fuel. You’ve been holed up in here for hours.”

Elton smiled up at Bernie, placing his pencil behind his ear. “I feel like my fingers can’t work fast enough for my brain again. I can see the notes in my head, and just need to keep getting them out... It’s brilliant, Bernie! I feel like I am ‘me’ again!”

Bernie chuckled. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. Dinner will be ready in fifteen. I’ve let you beg off food all day, and have entertained your parents and Nan without complaint, but I will make you join us if I have to.”

“I will reward you later for your patience, Bernie,” Elton said solemnly. 

“You are without a doubt the most annoying bloke ever, Reg…”

“Good thing you love me, then, eh?”

Bernie chuckled, shaking his head. “I ask myself almost daily why...”

Elton turned back to his notes, retrieving his pencil. “Because life is never dull with me in it, Bernie. You would die without my captivating charm.”

“Is that so?”

Elton nodded firmly. “Now, shoo. I only have fifteen minutes apparently to create this masterpiece. You’re cramping my creative spark.”

_ Life is good _ , Bernie thought, closing the door to the music room behind him. He leaned against the wall, listening as Reg’s fingers danced on the keys, a beaming smile on his face. He may still be weak, having to use a cane by the end of the day. He may still be exhausted, the physical pain without the aid of any substances almost more than he could bear at the best of times. But he was happy. Reg was happy. 

He had a full house of guests he needed to entertain by himself for just a little longer, and help Nan Ivy put the last touches on the celebratory dinner. Reg had reached a full year of sobriety. He had managed a full year away from that scumbag Reid. He was on the cusp of a new creative direction. They had committed to each other formally the day prior. Bernie had never been more proud of his partner, and felt such peace about their coming future.

He collapsed on the kitchen chair, beaming as Nan Ivy mashed potatoes, as Sheila took the roast out of the oven, as Fred and Ray cheered along with the television. Everyone who actually cared about them were here, and were happy for them as well.  _ Life is truly, truly good. _


End file.
